Channeled Teachings About Life and Death

In my last blog, I explored some of the ways people get their ideas about life after death. Religion has been the primary source of these ideas throughout most of history. Since the advent of hospice and modern medicine, we now have the first-hand experiences of people nearing death (see Final Gifts) and those restored to life after dying (see Life After Life). These new sources have provided a somewhat consistent picture of the initial phase of death, e.g. appearances by the dead, out-of-body consciousness, effulgent light, life review, celestial guidance, etc. For a more fleshed out picture, however, people have sought details from the dead themselves. This information arrives in four distinctive ways: via mediums,through past-life recall, by Instrumental TransCommunication, i.e. electronic devices, and in dreams. Real? Silly? Fraudulent? Perhaps all three?

MEDIUMS

Psychically talented persons, called mediums enable contact with the dead through channeling and telepathy. In channeling, a deceased or other-worldly entity takes over the body of the medium in order to speak. The entrance of the entity is typically marked by a preparatory trance meditation by the medium followed by an awakening and noticeable change in posture, voice, mannerisms, and verbal expression indicative of the new resident. It is very theatrical. Some mediums channel a single entity, others provide a multitude of characters, like a telephone operator switching to different lines, or a very good actor switching roles. In telepathy, the medium (perhaps lacking the requisite theatrical skills) is not taken over by the entity but rather hears (clairaudience), sees (clairvoyance) and/or feels (clairsentience) the messages of the dead. As in life, there seems to be a hierarchy in channeled entity world. Some are simply the dead relatives of bereaved families while others command a much wider audience as spiritual teachers  (e.g. Abraham, Art & Pursah, Michael, Matthew, Seth, the Akashic Records, Pleiadeans, Edgar Cayce).

Carolyn North, author of The Experience of a Lifetime: living fully dying consciously has written a very interesting piece, Life Post-Mortem on life and the afterlife gleaned from the published communications of ten or more channeled entities who appeared in either England, the U.S. or South Africa between 1909 and 1978. Their numbers included such notables as Arthur Conan-Doyle (author of Sherlock Holmes) and T. E. Lawrence (Lawrence of Arabia) along with lesser-known personages. Both skeptical and intrigued, Carolyn was impressed by the consistency of description among the various entities, ". . .  although there was little chance that they (the channelers) could have either known each other or come across each others' accounts during their lifetimes, what they had to say was virtually identical across the board!" Below are a few quotes to inspire further reading.

• Regarding the difference between life and death, Dr. Myers, a deceased Cambridge scholar, says: The secret of death is to be found in the rate of speed at which the outer shell vibrates. For instance, a human being is primarily aware of the visible world about him because his body is traveling at its particular rate of speed. Alter the timing of your physical form and the earth, men, women and all material objects will vanish for you as you vanish for them. Death, therefore, means merely a change of speed. For the purpose of this change a temporary dislocation is necessary, for the soul must pass from one body traveling at a certain vibration to another traveling at a different rate or time.
• Diplomat and Far East adventurer, Joe Gascoigne, explains our earthly existence: The earth is a place where we learn and grow by experiencing life in matter. We repeat the process lifetime after lifetime until, by becoming literally "enlightened" we make ourselves accessible to Light by effacing layers of density until what is left is our most subtle core of being.
• Frances, an ex-nun, describes her experience of the life review: Somewhere in the depths of the mind two blueprints are brought forward into consciousness. These are so clear that one can literally take them out and study them. One is the Perfect Idea with which the spirit goes bravely into incarnation. The other is what results from an only partially-understood Plan - in fact, life as it is actually lived.
• On the various level of death, Arthur Conan-Doyle reports: The difficulty is to find adequate words with which to describe the conditions of life after death. Every soul must some day pass through a second death before it quits this first after-death plane. After experiencing a period of unconsciousness which may last for minutes, hours, days or even years, the soul then awakes to to a renewed, rich and vivid life when it sees truth revealed. With this in view, man advances into the mental conditions of his being, automatically migrating to the particular mental plane to which his soul is attuned.

I have personally witnessed a number of channelers in action. While their performances are quite captivating, I find myself unwilling to whole-heartedly accept their claims of entity inhabitation. It's not that I disbelieve in an afterlife or in the possibility of communications between the living and the dead. I am open to both. My reticence is due in part to the high potential for fraud and deception in the channeling trade. How very disturbing it would be to be duped. And the carefully orchestrated theatric quality of the channeling feeds my disbelief.

Popular in early 19th century United Kingdom and the United States and coinciding with the rise of Spiritualism, mediumship quickly fell into disrepute after several popular and widely followed mediums were exposed for the use of stage magic tricks to dupe their audiences. People do hate to be deceived. In her book, The Wheel of Life, death expert Kubler-Ross provided a contemporary example of this kind of metaphysical disillusionment. A trance medium she had followed for many years was exposed for sexual indiscretions along with faking much of his channeling. Although it utterly destroyed her belief in the medium, interestingly, it did not shake her belief in some of his channeled entities which she apparently met separately without the medium assistance. 

One often hear about the use of mediums and psychic during murder investigations.This certainly lend to their credibility. However, it is possible their  talents have been greatly exaggerated. For arguments on either side see Police Psychics: Do They Really Help Solve Crimes?, Wikipedia and Psychic Detectives. Scientific studies have attempted to test the psychic abilities of mediums. Only a few studies support their claims and those that do often suffer from procedural biases. For example, mediums were tested in the presence of their subjects and thus allowed access to non-verbal and physical clues regarding personal information -- much in the way Sherlock Holmes deduced impressive details about a person merely by noting their clothes, manner and the roughness of their hands. A more recent study conducted at the Windbridge Institute addresses these procedural issues by eliminating direct contact between subject and psychic. Even the person who contacts the medium is kept in the dark regarding the subject for whom the reading is to be given. Results of this study, reported in Explore: The Journal of Science & Healing 3, no. 1 (2007): 23-27, show some support for the psychic abilities of medium. However the study provides no indication of how mediums obtain their information, i.e. from the dead or otherwise.

An alternative explanation of how mediums get their information may be found in the holographic theory of quantum physicist, David Bohm on the interconnectedness of the universe. In a nutshell his theory postulates a higher order realm, the implicative order, from which everything manifests on the worldly level, the explicative order.

"Bohm suggests that the whole universe can be thought of as a kind of giant, flowing hologram, or holomovement, in which a total order is contained, in some implicit sense, in each region of space and time. The explicate order is a projection from higher dimensional levels of reality, and the apparent stability and solidity of the objects and entities composing it are generated and sustained by a ceaseless process of enfoldment and unfoldment, for subatomic particles are constantly dissolving into the implicate order and then recrystallizing." See David Bohm and the Implicative Order

Interpreted according to this theory, mediums obtains their psychic readings by tapping into the implicative order. Locality and contact with the subject of the reading is irrelevant because the information is everywhere. Interestingly, Bohm's theory of an implicative order, is consistent with the explanation of channeling given to me by a trance-medium I interviewed for a television show back in the mid-90's. This medium characterized channeling as tapping into a higher realm (like Bohm's implicative order) and extracting information. It is an ability, he told me, that we all share to varying degrees. Doing a Tarot reading or consulting the I Ching are common tools of taping into that other realm. 

I like Bohm's theory, it resonates with my own belief system. This brings up the other reason why I do not whole-heartedly believe in the channeling dead spirit -- my underlying belief system. Channeled entities and spirits do not quite fit in to my Sufi training and spiritual experiences whereas tapping into the implicative order does. How something "fit" with one's current beliefs is probably the way most of us judge metaphysical phenomenon and discriminate between the sublime and the ridiculous. Lest we chastise ourselves too much for our illogical reasoning, it is important to remember that even scientists are susceptible to this bias and are just as reluctant to welcome new theories that are at odds with their own. We are protective of our belief systems. They provide meaning to our world and make us feel comfortable. We do not let go of them easily

How does one arrive at a belief system regarding the afterlife? In my own case, it seems to be from a combination of life experiences, spiritual teachings, book reading, and slew of mind bending death stories from totally ordinary people.

My belief system, idiosyncratic as it is, allows me to appreciate the teachings, for example, of a famous channeled entity without actually believing in its existence. I totally believe in the law of attraction, while suspending my judgement regarding Abraham, the channeled entity. This is because when I put my mind to it, the law of attraction seems to works for me and it fits with my belief system. And even if I am deluding myself and everything is totally random, I'm still a happier person because law of attraction encourages a discipline toward positivity rather than complaining. "Don't complain, that only brings on more of the bad.  Think about what you want!" And doesn't thinking about what you want make you feel much more happy than thinking about what you don't want?

I had a stunning encounter with the Law of Attraction, long before I had ever heard the term. Just after my first summer camp with Sufi Master Adnan Sarhan, about 25 years ago, I found myself in Albuquerque on the way to a Pueblo ceremony with a car full of German Sufi students. I was driving my 1968 VW bus, which ceased functioning when I stopped to pick up my last rider. For a moment I considered crying and gnashing my teeth, my usual response to auto malfunctions. However, having just completed two months of transcendent spiritual practice, I decide to flow with the moment and surrender to whatever happened. It was as though the universe had paused to observe my decision and reformed itself around my choice. I pulled out my trusty "Idiots Manual" for VW owners" and just as I sorted out the automotive issue, a young man showed up at my side and asked if he could be of assistance. I humorously replied, "Not unless you are a VW mechanic." To which he replied, "As a matter of fact, I am." I laughed. Not only was he a VW mechanic but he also had the very part I needed to repair the car in his garage. A half-hour later we were on way. As we drove off it dawned on me that it was Labor Day and all the automotive repair places were closed.

Next time: Past-life regression and recollection or maybe dream of the dead.

NDE -- Glimpses of the Other Side

In a previous blog, I discussed some of the ways we learn about the territory of death and after death. The most familiar resource is religion. It is the main purpose of religion to provide a theological framework for why we are here and what it all mean. Invariably religions predict a relationship between behaviors in this life and rewards or punishments in the next. It has been suggested that religious doctrine gives society its moral compass and motivation for being good. Authority for this religious doctrine is almost always attributed to God or some divine being by way of inspiration to a specially chosen prophet (e.g. Jesus, Buddha, Mohammed, Joseph Smith). Eventually the charismatic teachings of these religious messengers evolve into formulated rules of behavior. Considering the number of wars that are grounded in religious fervor, one might question the underlying definition of "being good," or the calibration of the proffered moral compass. Nevertheless, for many people in the world, religion has been a source of comfort and guidance regarding the mysteries of death.

A more down-to-earth source of information about death comes from the dying themselves. This too I mentioned in the earlier blog. The visions and communications of the dying, termed "nearing death awareness" by Kelley and Callanan in their book Final Gifts, provide a first hand-glimpse of the possibilities of death. Terminally ill patients frequently speak of a journey or trip they are about to take. Some report advanced traveling in the mind or spirit to various places around the world or in otherworldly realms, not unlike fledgling learning how to fly. There are also descriptions of visitations by deceased relative and friend, and if observed in those moments the dying do indeed appear to be looking at something invisible to others. Moments before her death, my friend Marianne, who had been unconscious, suddenly sat up in bed and gazed off into the distance, a look of beatific awe and amazement on her face. It was the sort of look that makes you turn to see what is there, followed by goosebumps upon seeing only the wall. Another friend told me that during her mother's final days she (the mother) seemed to have acquired the skill of astral projection, since she was able to report the details of her children's conversations conducted well out-of-ear-shot. The LA Times article, "Taking Life's Final Exit" provides a lovely summary the Final Gifts book along with other intriguing reports on "nearing death awareness.

A third source of information about death comes from people who have revived after being declared clinically dead. In his seminal book, Life After Life, Raymond Moody's recounts the many common features of "near-death experience" (NDE) -- a long dark tunnel, disembodied observation of one's physical body and the activities around it, a feeling of profound inner peace and contentment, bright golden light, the appearance of deceased friends and relative and/or an otherworldly being to assist in a life review and the subsequent return to the living. Moody's book is largely anecdotal and he makes no claims about proof of an afterlife, but he is clearly impressed by the reports of his subjects and discounts any rational scientific explanation. For a sample of a near-death encounter see Mellen-Thomas story. While not all near-deathers claim the spiritual insights of Mellen-Thomas, almost all report the loss of any fear about death after their experience--a comforting result in and of itself. The two near-deathers I interviewed in the course of making my film series, Secrets of Life and Death, both describe their reluctance and disappointment at returning to the living, so wonderful was their glimpse of the other side.

Those uncomfortable with the implications of NDE have sought physiological and psychological explanations, e.g. drug induced hallucination, brain shutdown, oxygen deprivation, depersonalization and birth memory. Discussion of the scientific viewpoint may be found on HowStuffWorks and Wikipedia. Evidence that favors the survival of consciousness after death is reported by Kenneth Ring in a paper written for the Journal of Near Death Studies and summarized on the NDE website. The jury is still out on where NDE proves or disproves life after death. Read the material and decide for yourself. Ultimately it boils down to what you believe in, and that may have a lot more to do with your own life experiences than any rational argument.

In my next blog I will describe a fourth source of after-death information -- communications from the dead themselves  These communications come to us in three distinct ways: channeled (not so very different from the way religions initially acquire their own death knowledge); electronically or telephonically transmitted -- also known as electronic voice phenomenon (EVP) or Instrumental TransCommunication (ITC); and dream visitations.

If you have any personal experiences or research related to this subject please share with the rest of us.

Dream Guidance

Dreams are an amazing resource if you can learn how to decode them. They can give you information about the purpose of your life, the state of your health, the people you have lost or the progress of your work. They can even hint at  what you should do or not do. But, how to make sense of them? So many wild visuals: water, zebras, butterflies, overflowing toilets, crammed bookshelves, trains, mountain trails, people you feel you know but can’t identify when you wake up. What does it all mean?

Like poetry, dreams are full of symbolism and metaphor. If you give them time and attention you can start to learn the language of your own dreams. The first step is to write them down. Best to do it when you first wake up, because dreams have a habit of slipping away quickly. Some dream enthusiasts will wake up in the middle of the night to record their dreams. Not me, I’m much too attached to my sleep. Also, I read in one of Jeremy Taylor’s books (big dream author) about writing down dreams only to discover in the morning that the writing had been a dream too. So why even try. The way I figure it, if it’s important, I’ll remember.

Expert dreamers have some helpful hints about keeping a dream journal and interpreting dreams. When you are writing down your dream always write it in the present tense as though it were happening in this very moment. This helps to bring the dream into the present and makes it more accessible to the intuitive side of your brain. 

How you feel about the dream and also how you felt just after the dream can be important clues to the dreams meaning. If you felt positive about the dream, what is going right in your life right now? Can you relate it to your dream.  If you felt frightened, or angry or sad, again consider what is happening in your life and see if there's a connection. 

Next, examine everything in your dream: every object, person and action and consider what special meaning each has for you. In my own dreams, buses, trains, cars and bikes regularly appear. They are all forms of locomotion -- ways for me to move forward. I usually associate them with the work I've doing for the last twelve years, making and distributing my film series, Secrets of Life and Death. Train? Moves fast, but not in my power. Bicycle? Slow and easy and under my own steam.

It helps to share your dream with others who are also enthusiastic about dreams. Their interpretations of your dreams and vice versa can provide many new insights, besides making it a lot more fun. The rule about interpreting someone else’s dream, however, is to always preface your interpretation with: “if it were my dream, it would mean. . .” The meaning of your dreams is always up to the dreamer. There is no one right interpretation, only the interpretation that feels right for you. 

Books of symbols can be a good resource for additional ideas. Since I often dream about animals, my favorite book is, Animal Speak by Ted Andrews.

My dreams have given me a lot of insight throughout my film making process. Scanning through a dream journal written in 2006, I happened on a dream titled, “Caught on the last step.” This was a month before I contracted with the editor who helped me finish my films. In the dream my foot is stuck on the last step of a staircase. I have to step backward to move forward again. And that is exactly what I ended up doing in real life. I went back to the editor I had given up on a year ago because she was too busy. The timing was the right and we were able to finish editing the first two films in four months.

So give it a try. Dreaming is one of the great mysteries of existence. It can put magic into your life.

Nonbelief or Disbelief

I want to share this exchange I had with a friend about my last blog post,  Understanding Death for Those Without Faith.  Daniel objected to my use of the word "Atheist" as its true meaning is one who does not believe in a God. One can disbelieve in God and still believe in some form of afterlife. 

I started by asking if there was a more concise term for "a person who does not believe in an afterlife."

Daniel: Good question. Personally I feel that "materialist" covers it, because that seems to be the gist of it -- the notion that all reality, including consciousness, can be reduced to some crudely material basis.  I think that if one firmly believes this, then any experiences or phenomena that seem to challenge it will be interpreted within that framework even if it means sweeping whole chunks of subjective experience or objective evidence under the rug. That seems to be how anomalies in general are handled by our arbiters of reality.

Michelle: Materialist... sounds more like a consumer or someone after worldly things. This may or may not be true for those who believe we cease to exist after death.

Daniel: That's a common usage of the term "materialist," but in philosophy and science it means someone who believes that matter is all there is. The philosophical materialist believes that consciousness arises from physical matter (specifically, brain matter), or at least from the *behavior* of brain matter, i.e., neurological activity.

The nonmaterialist considers that the brain and its activity may modulate, structure or create imprints in consciousness but sees consciousness itself as essentially independent of matter, and capable of being influenced directly by other consciousness.

Theoretically one can argue on behalf of either point of view and invoke supportive evidence, but the materialist overlay on mainstream science is so invisibly pervasive that self-described scientists will generally accept evidence representing only one point of view. In other words, this overlay is often equated with science itself, whereas nothing could be further from the truth. Science is simply a *method of inquiry*. Properly conducted, it should be neutral with regard to particular philosophies, worldviews and subject matter. One might even say that the scientific method is very much a spiritual discipline in that its practice requires setting the ego aside and letting Nature speak without hindrance or prejudice.  (Sure, some distortion is always inevitable -- you just want to minimize it as much as possible.)

Michelle: It may be they have not been exposed to experiences or information that shifts their perspective. Perhaps "nonbeliever" might be more precise. Or "rationalist.

Daniel: I think genuine "nonbelief" is fine because it's neutral and presupposes openmindedness. What I think we're dealing with here is instead DISbelief, which is really just a fixed, unconscious belief in an opposing idea.

Michelle: "I did point out to the participants at the screening that Buddhism is an A-theistic practice.  However, there were at least two people who specifically said they did not believe in an afterlife.  And they are members of a group I truly need to address. They are looking for something.

Daniel: If their disbelief in an afterlife was unshakeable, what do you think they were looking for? For most people with high levels of disbelief, anything that smacks of religion (which would presumably be their only point of reference to an afterlife) is already pretty much off the table.

Michelle:  I think the nonbelievers (disbelievers?) were looking for some way to cope with the fact of their dying, to bring hope back into life when everything seems hopeless.

Some hopeful strategies those who do not believe in an afterlife include: leaving a life legacy for those left behind -- maybe an annotated photo album, an ethical will, videotaped messages to children. Examination of one's life is a good exercise.  Learning to live in the moment, to cherish each moment, to spend time in nature and joy, to feel gratitude, to feel awe.  These are all things available to the nonbeliever. Last, and more difficult for nonbelievers is opening to the mystery of life. And that may a little to close to religion for most.

Daniel: That's a tough one. The materialist/atheist must admit to no mysteries, while believing that science will eventually solve them!

But on the practical, human level, yes. Whatever works to raise the person's spirits and help them open to joy in the moment is a blessing. Philosophy is small comfort unless they've already opened up to interpreting their experiences in a new light and relaxing into them.



Please share your thoughts regarding afterlife. We may be totally off the mark. -- Michelle

Understanding Death For Those Without Faith

A survey of attendees at my last film screening revealed consensus for wanting a deeper understanding of death. While our discussion was amazing in its breadth and coverage of difficult topics such as anger, acceptance, loneliness and the need for help, nothing was said about what happens when you die. No one in the room appeared to have the requisite personal experience.  No near-deathers, no reincarnates, no prophets or seers.

My objective for my workshops is simple-- get people talking about death.  But the survey made me realize that my audience was looking for something more -- specific information about death itself. The traditional place for obtaining an understanding of death is religion. All major world religions have something to say about death whether it flowery fields at the foot of God, the luminous embrace of deceased loved ones, return to the dreamtime, absorption by the mother goddess, or scary visions that send us scurrying back into rebirth for another round. Those with a deep faith may be comforted by the teachings of their chosen path. But this avenue offers little to those who have lost their childhood religious beliefs or never had any to begin with. What can I offer to a person who truly believes at the core of her being that she will cease to exist at the moment of her death? Sixty-two percent of my screening participants either did not report a religious/spiritual identification or said they were Atheist.

In the workshop, I asked people to consider death is an option, a path that might be chosen instead of taking on still more aggressive chemos, more invasive radiation, surgical interventions or high-priced experimental treatments neither tested or approved. My mother had metastatic breast cancer. The surgeons removed 70% of her intestines because it spread there and she could no longer eliminate waste. The surgery gave her about four more months to live. It gave her time to finish up her life. Her oncologist, however, also recommended chemotherapy. I would not have thought her a good candidate. She was extremely underweight, could hardly eat because of a paralysis to the right side of her face and her cancer had spread to her liver. After two treatments, she said "No more." The physical impact was too debilitating, too awful to endure. Physicians will recommend procedures even though the probability of success is miniscule. It is hard to take away hope. Families beg for hope. And well, you never know. Miracles happen. Also, to put it crudely, it's a business model. If a patient never think of death as an option, if he/she never face fears about dying, treatment may continue right up until the very last breath.

Well, why not? If you believe that you cease to exist at the end of that last breath isn't living, even in suffering, preferable to non-existence??? Maybe not. My mother didn't think so. Maybe the atheists at my workshop are not so sure either.  Or maybe they are looking for something else when all hope seems gone.

Besides religion, another way we can learn about dying is from those nearing death. The following list of books look to the experiences of the dying for guidance. Even the confirmed atheist can find something useful here.

• Dying Well, Ira Byock, MD, Berkeley Publishing, Berkeley, 1997 -- Full of heart-opening stories about finishing up relational business, saying good-bye and letting go, this book is primer for dying in peace. His five essential steps are I forgive you; forgive me, thank you, I love you, good-bye.
• Final Gifts, Maggie Callanan and Patricia Kelley, Bantam Books, NY 1992 -- Rich and mysterious stories about the leave-taking process of dying collected over ten years by two hospice nurses. Full of the mystery of this amazing transition.
• The Grace in Dying, Kathleen Dowling Singh, Harper, San Francisco, 1998 -- Pulling together the essence of many world wisdom traditions, (e.g. Christianity, Buddhism, Zen, Native American religions, Sufism, the Kabbalah) and years of working at the bedside of the dying, transpersonal psychologist Singh formulates a sort of Jungian process of psychospiritual  transformation from ego to "Ground of Being." Interesting and heady, the book extracts the best teachings from our religious traditions. But it is not for someone close to death.  For those near death, she says, "...put the book down. And know that you are safe. ... If you are dying, your mind will come to know this soon. So go and rest or go and pray or go and meditate, so that when you begin to enter the realms of the sacred you will resonate with those realms gently."
• Who Dies, Stephen and Ondrea Levine, Doubleday, NY, 1982 -- Pioneers in the conscious dying movement, Stephen and Ondrea share knowledge and insights obtained from years at the Hanuman Foundation Dying Project. Included are wonderful meditations on forgiveness, pain and dying. There is also an amazing description of what dying feels like from the inside -- mentally transmitted to Stephen from one of his patients. I read this book after my parents died and experienced a profound shift in my understanding of illness and healing. 

Ultimately the message in all these books is to embrace the mystery. Life is an amazing experience and so is dying. Welcome everything. 

Growing Old and Liking It.

At my 60th birthday party

Not until I reached forty did I notice any signs of aging.  I had that youthful appearance that had liquor stores and restaurants carding me until well into my 30s. When I reach 40, however, my eyes started to go.  I resisted, as most of us blessed with 20-20 vision resist. I only wore readers at night when reading in bed. I recall sitting in an Indian restaurant with a friend trying to decipher the menu in the mellow glow of the table lamp. Gradually and insidiously the need for glasses spread to all my reading time. Now I wear progressive except when I'm walking outside where the signs are graphic or large enough to read.

What really got my attention regarding my aging was the day I ran down a mountain trail and at the bottom discovered that my knees hurt and the hurt didn't go away for several days. I was stunned. That had never happened before. I had been a long distance runner for fifteen years.  I understood fatigue, cramped muscles, temporary aches from over extension, but this was new phenomenon. This was aging. This meant I had to be more careful. I had to learn to respect my body's limits. The bad news is that with each passing year, new limits keep adding on.

I still look pretty good on the outside. I eat extremely well -- organic, mostly vegetable. I do yoga and walk everyday. I've kept my weight down. My small breasts do not weigh enough to sag. Yet something is going on inside that I have no control over. It is the time clock of my cells.

A delightful and yet disturbing book, The thing about life is that one day you'll be dead, by David Shields, goes into great and at times humorous detail about the process of aging without being tedious or too scientific.

Given a list of 24 words, an average 20-year-old remembers 14 of the words, a 40-year-old remembers 11, a 60-year-old remember 9, and a 70-year-old remembers 7.

After age 30, your digestive tract displays a decrease in the amount of digestive juices. At 20, in other words, your fluids are fleeing, and by 30, you're drying up.

That may account for some of the digestive issues I began to experience in my late 30s which I always blamed on the fasting I did at Sufi camp and the inevitable food bingeing that would ensue afterward. I started taking digestive enzymes in my 40s and never looked back.

Shields' lists of age comparisons are interspersed with anecdote from his own life and that of his father who at the time of the book's creation was 97 and heading for 100.

The maximum rate of your heart can attain is your age subtracted from 220 and therefore falls by one beat every years. Your heart is continually becoming a less efficient pumping machine.

You couldn't prove this decline in efficiency by my dad, who, until his early 90s, would awake in darkness in order to lace up his sneakers and tug on his jogging suit. Birds would be just starting to call; black would still streak the colored-pencil soft blue of the sky; my father would be jogging.

The book is also interspersed with the comments of writers and celebrities and interesting stats:

Lauren Bacall said, "When a woman reaches twenty-six in America, she's on the slide. It's downhill all the way from then on. It doesn't give you a tremendous feeling of confidence and well-being."

Jack London died at 40; Elvis Presley, at 42.

Don Marquis, an American newspaper columnist who died at 59, said, "Forty and Forty-five are bad enough; fifty is simply hell to face; fifteen minutes after that you are sixty; and then in ten minutes more you are eighty-five.

I have to agree with Marquis about the hellishness of the fifties. For most women, that's when menopause sets in.  There is no exaggerating the impact that chemistry shift has on a woman's body.

As women lose estrogen, their pubic hair becomes more sparse, the labia becomes more wrinkled, and the skin surrounding the vulva atrophies. The cell walls of a woman's vagina become weaker and more prone to tearing; the vagina gets drier, more susceptible to infection, and--with loss of elasticity--less able to shrink and expand, less accommodating to the insertion of a penis.

Most women will recall receiving the book, Growing Up and Liking It from their school around the age of 11 or 12. It give graphic details about the physiological changes about to take place as a girl reaches puberty.  I seem to have missed the follow-up publication for young girls turning 50, Growing Old and Liking It. All my knowledge was gleaned from the locker room discussions of older women.

I also agree with Marquis about the speed with which the sixties follows on its heels. Remember those old movies in which passing times was conveyed by the leaves of a calendar falling away? (If you don't remember, you're probably too young to find this post very interesting.)  That is how time feels to me now. Yesterday, it was January 1st and today it's more than half way through the year. Is that because I'm aging or because time is really speeding up?

David Shields begins his book with birth and continues to old age and death.  It is an engaging read with some very usable information. Here's his recipe for living longer:

If you want to live longer, you should--in addition to the obvious: eating less and losing weight--move to the country, not take work home, do what you enjoy and feel good about yourself, get a pet, learn to relax, live in the moment, laugh, listen to music, sleep 6 to 7 hours a night; be bless with long-lived parents and grandparents (35 percent of your longevity is due to genetic factors); be married ....

Read the book if you want to know the rest. It's probably in your library.

If you want to know about death, which Shields doesn't discuss, check out my website or come to one of my film screenings.

Departures

Rick Fields' Ashes

In the Japanese film Departures by director Yojiro Takita, an out-of-work cellist accidentally finds a new career casketing the dead. The Japanese, we discover in this film, are as death phobic as we are in the West. This premise makes for a humorous, at times emotional, and very engaging film about life, death and relationships.

The young cellist, Daigo Kobayashi, is reluctant at first to accept this highly questionable vocation. But he learns from his boss to encasket the dead with the elegance and precision of a Japanese tea ceremony. The process is amazing to watch and he is soon drawn into it beyond the lucrative pay that first hooked him. With respect and dignity and various trade tricks deftly concealed behind wraps and cloth, the two men transform the deceased from a thing of horror into beauty before the eyes of the grieving family. Frequently, though not always, their exquisite work opens the family to their grieving.

The film stimulates a lot of thought about how we deal with death and dead bodies in the States. I have already written about our aversion to death as revealed in our obsession with medical technology to stave it off at all costs. After death this aversion continues in our haste to call professionals to remove the body and handle the nasty bits. And what do you think of the undertaker -- that tall slim fellow with gaunt cheeks, solemn face and back silk hat? Mercenary? Insincere? Obsequious? That's how he's depicted by Dickens. But what are your experiences?

When my brother Sandy unexpectedly died, we were able to briefly visit his body at the mortuary. It was not an official viewing, which would have been costly, but rather an "identification." The mortuary was fairly sure it had the right body, but family are permitted to examine and identify their loved one without additional charge. Sandy was laid out on a wheeled table dressed only in a black plastic body bag. He looked asleep, but he was cold to the touch. I must say, there is nothing quite like touching a dead body to comprehend that the former inhabitant is no longer home.

The impulse of my brother's widow was to glance at the body and then leave the room. "Yup, that's him." To be sure she was still in shock from finding his dead body in bed the previous morning. But our culture also supports a hasty retreat. I chose, however, to stay a while, as did my other brother, Skip. We watched and waited to see what might happen, to let memories and feelings emerge, to formulate final words for our brother's unhearing ears. The widow returned, three times, first to berate him for leaving her and finally to kiss him goodbye. I like to think we held the space for her to take her time. But we may only have prolonged her discomfort. Do what you need to do and let others do what they need. It is the best rule at times like these.

I am not sure how I feel about the primping of a dead body. I remember a lot of deprecating comments about how my deceased grandmother looked in her open casket all rouged and lipsticked. She did not look anything like our "gramma." In contrast, my brother Sandy looked very much like himself without any adornment. However, there was something very stark and discomforting about his utilitarian display on the gurney. After my dear friend Marianne died and the hospice orderly had cleaned her up, we dressed her, combed her hair, and applied lipstick to her lips even though her next stop was the crematorium. Doing this felt right and respectful. After our gentle ministrations, her mouth, previously slack-jawed and open, softened into a sweet, contented smile. Was she pleased? Primping seemed the right thing to do in her case. Perhaps the difference lie in the manner of those doing the primping, i.e. with reverence and love. That is why I find the the ritual preparation in Departures is so compelling.

In California, home-based funerals are gaining popularity not only to save money, but also reclaim the ancient and intimate ritual of preparing the body for burial. People trained in the practice of body preparation can be hired to guide a family through the process and paperwork. Or you can read up on it at Final Passages. Keeping the body at home has the added advantage of providing ample time to sit with the deceased, rather than be hastened by the organizational needs of professional facilities.

Although contemplating death and decay may be a time-honored practice among the Buddhists, it is not everyone's cup of tea. Even I, who can wax romantically about the emotional benefits of doing it yourself, pause at the thought of actually preparing the body of my six feet tall, 300+ lbs brother. Distributing his ashes, which nearly filled a tall garbage bag, was task enough.

The chevra kadisha, a team of professional volunteers trained in the burial preparation, offers a middle road approach between the do-it-yourselfers and high-priced professionals at least for those of the Jewish faith. They mix spirituality with practicality as they wash, purify and dress the deceased in a process called taharah. The Jews, apparently, have held on to their time-honored practices of handling death while much of western culture has spent the last 100 years hiding it in the closet. We might learn from them and and from our graceful encasketers in Departures, as we seek our own personal approach to death and the dead. The people in my newest film, The Heart of Grieving, offer some additional possibilities, none of which involve washing dead bodies. When clear cultural instructions are lacking, we do best to follow our hearts.

Mastering Life

In the film Julie and Julia, we are provide with an interesting contrast between the story of Julia Child’s start in the cooking profession and blogger Julie Powell’s one year challenge to cook every recipe in Child’s first cookbook. Child, married to a career diplomat and living in Paris, begins her adventure by seeking to engage her mind and time doing something she loves – eating good food. Julie seeks to prove her worth to herself and her friends, also by doing something she loves -- writing and cooking. It takes Child over seven years to write her famous book and many more to get it published. I found this reassuring given the ten plus years I have spent producing my film series. Julie becomes a stunning success after only a year. I felt dismissive.

Clearly, I have some judgments about Julie that bare examination. Julie was motivated by EGO, the desire to prove herself to her friends. She piggybacked on the work of another and she was an overnight success (ok, over-year success)! Child, in contrast, was motivated by her sheer love for food, was amazingly courageous in bucking gender stereotypes and praise-worthy for her many years of perseverance in writing and publishing her book. She was also played by actor, Meryl Streep, and thus irresistible. Reexamining my judgments I realized that neither woman is better than the other and both have something to teach us about life mastery.

1. Ego: How many of us are not first motivated by a desire to prove ourselves to others. The lesson from both women is to select something that we love to do. Julie shares her struggles with her ego -- her insecurity, her disappointments, her self-absorption and the near destruction of her marriage. We can identify and learn from her missteps and forgive ourselves as we can forgive her. Child, on the other hand, shows us how to stand up for our work, to resist compromising for the sake of acceptance (i.e. being published). Is this ego or not-ego? Was she so full of herself and her book that she couldn’t make the requested changes? Or was it love of her work and those who helped her that would not allow it? She won in the ends. Her book was published in its entirety. So we are grateful she resisted and can learn something about defending the integrity of our own creations.

2. Piggybacking: What artist does not learn from the work of other? It is where inspiration and ideas are birthed. Can any one look at their own creations and truly say they owe nothing to any one else? It is impossible. Of course there are limits. When is it piggybacking, when is it plagiarism, and when is it copyright infringement? It can be a confusing line that, rest assured, our copyright industry protects and expands with vigor. Julie was piggybacking on Child’s work. Child was piggybacking on her teachers. They piggybacked on those they learned from and so on and so forth back to that first caveman who discovered cooking over fire. Each one put something of themselves in the new creation that makes it truly unique. Of course sometimes they don’t, but we’ll let the courts decide.

3. Instant Success. Why degrade instant success? Struggling for years has nothing to recommend for itself. It is simply a belief one clings to in the long years of uncertainty and disappointment. “Got to put in the time!” It is a belief that can undermine us and hold us back right along with thoughts about being unworthy, not good enough and undeserving. Instead of dissing Julie for her relatively quick success, we should be celebrating her and trying to copy her. Of course there is also a lot of serendipity and luck, not to mention good connections involved in achieving what we traditionally think of as success, i.e., fame and fortune. Perhaps we should reconsider the meaning of success.

When it comes to the end of our lives, what will we remember as being most important? In a blog post at Inspiration and Chai we are told of five regrets that recur among the dying: failing to live a life true to one’s self rather than fulfilling the expectations of others, working too hard, not expressing one’s feelings, losing track of friend, and not being happy. Might a truly successful life be better gauged by how few of these regrets we have in our final hours? So, how are you doing?

Meaning of Life

Eddie, an 83 year old war veteran and a very sweet guy, discovers his life's purpose only after he dies, in the film, Five People You Meet in Heaven. Eddie, played wonderfully by John Voight, begins his tale at the end, shortly after he dies. We follow him into the afterlife where he meets five people, one by one, who help him review his life and discover things he did not know. In a series of flashbacks that jump back and forth in time, we piece together the story of a difficult childhood, a promising future, a traumatic war event and the consequent loss of a life dream. The story is neither predicable nor formulaic. It is a complicated examination of a human psyche, with many unexpected twists and turns. Except for the heavenly music which might be off putting for some, the film is definitely worth a look.

In contrast to the hero in Ikiru (the film discussed in my last post), Eddie believes most of his adult life that he has failed to live up to his potential. He discovers, however, that life is not always about what we think it is. Both films examine what it means to have lived well. Interestingly, they come to a similar conclusion -- it is by helping others that we find our deepest satisfaction. In Eddie's case, as the maintenance man of Ruby Amusement Park, it is about the special kindness he showed to the children who visit the park. It is the close attention he gave to the rides to make sure they were safe. And ultimately, it is about his final act of selflessness to save a child from a broken ride. The sacrificial rescue is completely in character. It is who Eddie is -- the big guy who helps the small and the weak. His story is also about forgiveness, but you'll have to see the film for the details.

Both films, Ikiru and Five People You Meet in Heaven, asks us to consider the meaning of our own lives, how well and fully we are living and whether, given a sudden and unexpected death, we would measure up. It is about living heartfully and courageously though not necessarily in a big or flamboyant way. This subject is very dear to my own heart. It is one of the reason for making and sharing my film series, Secrets of Life and Death. They are films about preparing for death, yes, but also about what death can teach us about how we live our lives, about life's impermanence and unpredictability and what is truly important.

Like Eddie, we do not always know the impact of our actions. His story reminds me of another story told by Rachel Naomi Ramen in her book, My Grandfather's Blessings. It's about a business man, George, who thought his life had been a waste. He had two ex-wives and five children whom he knew nothing about because he spent his life building a business and making money. Diagnosed with lung cancer, he now lamented his choice. Rachel, his counselor, knew that he was the inventor of a medical device that enabled people with a chronic disease to live an almost normal life. One of her patients, Stephanie, was a grateful user of this device. Rachel asked Stephanie if she would be willing to write an anonymous note to the man explaining what a difference his invention had made in her life. Stephanie went one better and asked Rachel to invite him to her house for dinner. George agreed, but when he arrived he was met, not by just Stephanie and her husband but by her whole family -- parents, aunts and uncles, nieces, nephews, cousins, her husband's parents and many friend and neighbors, the whole community that had sustained Stephanie in the years she was an invalid. They had come to share their stories, the part they had played, basically the story of Stephanie's life from its many angles. At the end of the sharing, more than three hours, Stephanie told George, "This is really a story about you." Later, back at her office, Rachel asked George how many devices he manufactured every year. "Close to ten thousand," he answered softly. Then he said, "I knew the numbers, Rachel, I had no idea what they meant."

Share your story. Who has been a blessing to you? Whom have you blessed? What can you do for someone today?

TO LIVE!

Back in 1952, Akria Kurosawa made a film Ikiru, which means “to live.” It’s about a career bureaucrat, a minor cog in the huge Japanese government bureaucracy, who, along with everyone else there, spends his entire working life doing nothing and avoiding doing anything. When our protagonist, Kanji Wantanabe, discovers, indirectly, that he has a terminal stomach cancer he sets out on quest to find out what life is about. In the end he finds redemption in helping a neighborhood transform a toxic sewage spill into a playground for the poor children. The film is a good reminder about the purpose of life. "Not dead" does not mean "alive."

It is easy to get caught up in the routine of daily life, making a living, paying the bills, keeping ahead of the escalating demands of work and home. Americans work more hours on the job than any other industrialized nation, clocking up nearly two working weeks more than their counterparts in Japan, the second most worked people of the industrialized world. That does not give a lot of time for self-awareness or reflection. 

One of the purposes of my film series, Secrets of Life and Death, is to wake people up to their mortality before death comes knocking at the door. By acknowledging death, we may, like Kanji Wantanabe, be encouraged to have a more creative and fulfilling life. Death exposes the fragility and tenuousness of everyday life, of our whole material existence. This realization can be both ecstatic and shattering. Shattering if like Kanji we waste our precious time in mindless and meaningless repetition until it is almost too late. Ecstatic when we heed the whisper of our hearts and connect to those activities and things that nourish our souls. Death admonishes us to live more fully, to let go of minor irritations, to take chances, show up and pursue our most fervent desires, hopes and dreams.

Kanji shows us that helping others is a worthy pursuit. We do not even need to do something huge and dramatic. It could begin with a simple word of validation. Say something positive to the next person you meet and see how you feel.

Meditation: the art of focusing

Dancing at Sufi camp by George Brooks

I first became acquainted with the art of meditation while in graduate school at Indiana University. A free class was offered on Transcendental Meditation. The procedure seemed easy enough; you listened to a lecture, received your very own magical mantra (meditation word) and off you went. So I went, got my own special word and begin sitting, twice a day, twenty minutes, repeating my word over and over again. I did that day after day, week after week . . . for years. 

Mostly I did a lot of thinking in those twenty minutes.  It was good thinking! I came up with lectures for my classes, questions for tests, and new points to make in the Ph.D. thesis I was writing. By this time I had moved to Minnesota to teach at a Catholic college on the Mississippi River. I did nothing to curb this thinking. Teaching four Sociology classes a semester was a lot of work and I appreciated all the creativity these meditation breaks could give me. I just let the thoughts burble away each time until my twenty minutes were up. The practice of sitting twice a day was probably good for me, but I suspect I did more meditating while jogging in the subzero Minnesota winter.

Years later, I began studying with a Sufi Master from Iraq -- Adnan Sarhan -- at a remote mountain retreat in central New Mexico. It was then that I began to meditate in earnest. Meditation, I discovered, is not about emptying your mind, it is about being focused in the moment. It’s like a cat watching a mouse. Whatever happens -- sounds, colors, smells, feelings -- you are there, noticing. If you can do this for any length of time your consciousness shifts and you begin to change. 

 

At the Sufi retreat, Adnan uses a variety of techniques to draw the mind into the moment. Which is good because the mind is a child always wanting something new. He is an artist at drawing our attention. Chanting, slow movement, deep breathing, dancing, singing, whirling, even reading are all avenues of meditation.

Sometimes I was asked to read his writings to the group. The way they are written -- convoluted stories within stories within stories until you totally loose the thread and point of the tale -- is another strategy for shifting consciousness. It short-circuits the mind’s effort to make coherent sense. The mind finally gives up waiting for the climax or the resolution of the story and just follows the sound and the rhythm of the words. I put a lot of people into a trance with my reading.  Maybe they were just sleeping – but a delicious, relaxing sleep, massaged and cuddled by the sound and rhythm of the words.

Adnan has very eccentric grammar in his writing, probably due to his first language being Arabic. It can be a challenge to read and requires deep concentration. Whenever I started to show off, modulating the sound of my voice, thinking about my reading, I would stumble over his words. I had to let go of my thoughts and my desire to be "good" and just read. So reading was meditating too.

When I am meditating my mind feels all muffully, like my thoughts have been covered by a soft blanket or my brain is being massaged. Suddenly I am aware and focused. I see the visuals on the inside of my eyelids, hear the enveloping sounds, feel the breath in my chest, and smell the apple blossoms outside. It’s wonderful. Or I’ve learned to experience it as wonderful. It usually doesn’t lasts very long. Opps, there goes another thought. What I have noticed is that the focus of meditation improves my focus in other situations. It is easier to pay attention when someone's talking or to enjoy a walk or to make love, without intruding thoughts.

My best meditation form is dance. By focusing on the music, the movement of my body and the rhythm of my breath --- I forget to think. It is very creative from moment to moment and very physical. I get caught up partnering with the music, anticipating, enfolding, immersing in the sound. When thoughts do show up, they are often so creative and pleasurable, they are hard to let go.  I wonder whether these mental inspirations are gifts of the mediation or the tricks of a wily monkey mind trying to get back into control. Don’t wonder, my body whispers, just dance.

Currently I have been doing a yoga meditation called pranayama. This involves a lot of playing with the breath. Inhale for five counts, exhale five counts. Make them even. Now add a pause at the end of each inhale and exhale. Extend the pause to five counts. Now add the bandas, muscular closings that confine the energy of the breath to the chest. Now alternate nostrils holding your nose with your hand. Three curled fingers press against the forehead, drawing attention to this powerful focusing spot. TheYoga of Breath by Richard Rosen, is a step-by-step guide to this practice. It's not as easy for me as dancing mediation, but more accessible in a small house. It requires more discipline and takes me deeper.

Neal Donald Walsh offers several interesting techniques for meditating in his book, When Change Happen, Change Everything. For the beginner he suggests walking meditation. In this meditation you move about, then stop every few moments to focus on a specific things -- like a flower or a blade of grass. You regard it intently, considering every aspect of it -- the color, the smell, the texture, the size, the shape. The goal is to practice focusing the mind. The mind is a muscle. You exercise regularly and it gets stronger.

Group meditation is very powerful practice. The energy or vibration of all those other meditating minds seems to help the focus. I lead a bereavement group at the local hospice and begin each group with a short group meditation. I guide the meditation with directions for breath and attention. I stay very present with my own breath, the feelings in my body and the suggestions of what to say next that pop in my mind. It is so easy to meditate in this situation. After a several minutes, I tell the group to slowly return to their normal breathing. Invariably, my own meditation goes deeper, so deep it is hard to leave. I stay a few precious breaths longer.

What are your experiences with meditation? What do you do? Does it come easy? Closes your eyes and do it right now. . . What does it feel like?  

Meditation: listening to your heart

Lately I’ve been getting the message that I need do more meditating. Not just sit for twenty minutes and let my mind wander, but really focus on being in the moment. In his book, When Everything Changes, Change Everything, Neal Donald Walsch describes meditation well, “I have to work hard to turn my mind off and just be with the moment and the experience, without judging it, defining it, or trying to make something happen or figure it out or understand it from my logic center. It is rather like making love.”

I am told that if I make the space for more meditation, my life will be transformed. Why do I want my life transformed? Mostly, because I worry a lot -- about making enough money, about paying for my new home, about the increase in the price of food and gas, about aging and the cost of healthcare, about the country, social security and the fat cats who call all the shots at the top, about earthquakes, radiation, and global weather chaos, etc. I am tried of all the worrying, complaining, resisting and blaming. Aren't you?

Meditation stops the voice of worry -- in Arabic, naf or mischievous whisperer. Meditation connects me to SOUL, the spirit inside and then I remember the soul’s viewpoint. The soul, you see, has its own agenda about why I am here in this life and what is suppose to be happening. I trust that agenda when remember it. A friend posted on facebook – “We are SOUL in a body, [this] helps me remember that anything but happiness is my choice.”

To the skeptics who would mock my words, calling me delusional, out of touch, a Pollyanna (and this may be my own personal skeptic) I say, “Why worry?” Worrying accomplishes nothing except to make me feel bad and unhappy. Do what you need to do. Take positive action. But don't worry.

A photographer recently posted a photo blog about the homeless on State Street in Madison, Wisconsin. These people have all the problems you’d expect -- drug and alcohol abuse, bad health, mental illness, smelly bodies and no money -- and yet they show more integrity, compassion and love for each other than most of us do for our own families. They even have joy. I am not proposing homelessness as a solution to worrying, although a brief visit might be very mind opening. I mention this because it shows me once again that it is not your circumstances that cause happiness or misery; it is the way you perceive your circumstances.

Mediation teaches us to discipline our thoughts, to control the ego of self-importance and open to the intelligence of the heart. It is the soul-ution to all the problems. ”Wisdom,” says Eckhart Tolle, “is not a product of thought. The deep knowing that is wisdom arises through the simple act of giving someone or something your full attention. Attention is primordial intelligence, consciousness itself. It dissolves the barriers created by conceptual thought, and with this comes the recognition that nothing exits in and by itself. It joins the perceiver and the perceived in a unifying field of awareness. It is the healer of separation.” Meditation teaches us how to pay attention, how to listen, how to be without judgment.

Things are so out of whack in the world, so distorted, violent and hateful, the only place to go is inside, back to the source, to the place of unity. All else is sorrow.

Happiness in the Brain

This is a continuation of my notes from the Happiness Conference at Stanford. This is taken from the presentation by Rick Hansen.

It appears that we have three distinct brains operating in our head: the lizard brain, the mammalian brain and the primate brain. Each brain has its own agenda and influences our responses to the environment accordingly.

The lizard brain, located in the medula olongta or brain stem, is concerned with avoiding harm. It's a genetic holdover from our evolutionary past and very useful in the wilderness or the big city.  From the lizard perspective, the world is a dangerous place full of predators that can gobble it up. The lizard brain is always on the alert for signs of danger.  It's response to danger is to flee and hide. The news media seems to be stimulating this part of our brain with information about the bad economy, the dangerous government, the destruction of the planet. If you react to disturbing news through escapist pursuits like television, computer games, drugs and alcohol, your lizard brain is in charge.

The mammalian brain is interested in rewards and pleasure. Although I don't know where this brain is located because I was busy writing notes when Rick showed it to us on the big TV screen, I am very familiar with it. The primate brain seeks those things that give pleasure and satisfy physical desires e.g. thirst, hunger, sex and warmth. A lot of our advertising targets the mammalian brain with pleasure visuals, especially those relating to sex. I think our food seeking drive may be more motivated by smell than vision. So when they start making "smellevision," watch out!  My spiritual teacher once told me the food vendor's trick of frying onions.  You don't have to sell the onions, just fry them and the people will come and buy whatever food you are selling. So if your response to stress is to eat, you know your mammalian self is on the ball.

The primate brain focuses on social bonding. It feels good to be in association with others. Caring and caregiving is programed into the primate's DNA. We need each other, at least our families and probably our tribe in order to survive in a primate world. Connection to our state or nation is more problematic and not part of the DNA. See Francis Fukuyama's new book The Origins of Political Order for a seminal work on the subject of nation bonding. Nonprofit organizations are stimulating your primate brain when they send you glossy pamphlets with pictures of happy third world people holding baby lambs and smiling.

If you pay attention to how you feel and what you feel like doing, you will know which part of your brain is operating at any tine. When the lizard brain is happy, it is calm and when unhappy, it will avoid. When the mammalian brain is happy, it's physical desires are satisfied.  When it is alarmed or stressed, e.g. hungry -- it will approach.  When the primate brain is happy, it is caring and social.  When alarmed it attacks. This scheme can be summerized:

Brain - happy - unhappy

Lizard - calm - avoid

Mammal - content - approach

Primate - care - attack

So what do you do when you're stressed? Hide? Eat? or Attack? Who is in charge? And then ask yourself who is supplying you with your choices.

Secrets of Happiness

Recently I went to a conference at Stanford on happiness. It was very thought provoking and I would like to share some of my notes.

Rick Hansen's presentation was particularly interesting to me as it explained some of the biological underpinnings of our experiences of happiness or unhappiness.

• Flows of thought leave material traces in the brain. What you think about will impact your brain!
• Blood flow increases to the area of the brain being stimulated. This can be observed and measured. They have plotted out the effects of various activities on the brain.
• What we think can change the way genes are expressed in specific cells. In other words, the effects of thought are not transitory or momentary. They change the brain over time.
• Neurons that fire together, wire together (this is just like what they showed in the film What the Bleep. This is why it's hard to change habits. It takes about 40 repetitions to set a new pattern
• Imaginary activity also can leave traces in your brain. If you think about what you want to do, it will leave a trace in your brain just like you did it. I suppose that's why pornography is so successful.
• Attention is like a spotlight. What you "attend to" stimulates specific parts of the brain and that area is strengthened and becomes more developed. The brain is like a muscle. The more you exercise a particular thought, the easier it is to have that thought. Makes sense when you think about practicing a musical instrument. It's not just the hand or mouth that develops, the brain develops too.

 Morale of this story? Pay attention to what you're thinking and doing. It's effecting your brain!

Asking for help

For nearly eight months after my father was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, my mother cared for him at home. He had been going down hill for years, but we stayed in denial as long as we could. So by the time his disease was recognized it was quite advanced.

In the years before his diagnosis, my mother accompanied him to college classes and wrote most of his papers. It was my father’s heart’s desire to earn a college degree. But as his illness progressed, the demands of his schooling coupled with the demands of his caring became too much for her. She final begged his physician to tell him he could not continue school, because she was unable to stop by herself.

After his diagnosis my father deteriorated rapidly. It was as though; now that we knew the truth, he could relax and let nature take its course. My mother tried putting him into a daycare program but this was short-lived. An educator by profession, my father began lecturing the other patients with nonsensical strings of engineering phrases. When they failed to pay attention he got angry. The staff could not handle his tempestuous outbursts and soon he was expelled.

Home all the time, my father was a handful. Like a large baby, he had to be dressed, bathed and fed. Several times he wandered off from home and got lost. Later, he became incontinent and unmindful of where he did his business. My mother, blind in one eye from a brain tumor surgery and fighting a recurrence of breast cancer, began to show signs of the strain.

I arranged to have a home health aid visit once a week. This proved unsuccessful. My mother treated the woman like a guest. Thursday mornings were spent scurrying around trying to get my father cleaned and the house presentable before the aid arrived. I asked my mother to let the aid help her. But she could only let the aid sit with him while she attended to other tasks.

Finally I was able to get my father into a respite program that placed him in a nursing home for three days while my mother enjoyed a needful break. Of course he never came home again. Only by stopping was my mother able to realize that what she was doing was impossible.

My mother’s handling of my father illness was neither unique nor unusual. It is not easy to ask for help and equally difficult to accept it. I understand this because I hate asking for help myself.  Partly it’s that ethic of rugged individualism, declaring independence and self-reliance. Also there’s a touch of pride, the assumption, perhaps rightly, that no one can do it as well. And then there is the privacy issue, a strong aversion to hanging out “the dirty laundry.” And let’s not forget the fear of being turned down. A friend of mine recently had a bout of food poisoning that gave her a serious scare. When I asked why she didn’t call me, she countered that she had asked help from a friend who turned her down and was afraid to try again. And don’t we always pick the person who will confirm our worst fears!  However, when it comes to caring for the dying, it is essential that we learn to ask for help as much and as often as needed.

Caring for a person who is dying is not a solo sport. There is simply too much for one person to do: medical appointments to attend, scheduling to arrange, equipment and medicines to procure, new treatments to research, family members to update, and on top of all that, the daily list of a normal busy life. When a dying person becomes bed ridden, the list can expand to include bathing, toileting, moving and adjusting, daily laundry, special meals, drug administration, wound tending and continuous monitoring.

And then there's the emotional component. When my mother was dying, I went back to help her tie up loose ends.  She was sharp of wit, ambulatory and able to handle her own hygiene. All I needed to do was drive her around and fulfill her requests. I don’t think I even did much cooking. Yet very soon, I became an emotional basket case. Was it the cats peeing in my bedroom, the constant blare of the radio, the deer-in-the headlight looks from my brother and sister-in-law as they disappeared into woodwork in their part of the house, or was it that heart wrenching moment when I asked her about tossing a photocopy of one of her sketches and she sighed and said, “I guess I’ll never get to that project.”? My back went out ten days after I arrived and I was on a return flight to San Francisco in less than two weeks. The relationship with my mom was admittedly tricky.  But whose isn’t?

I found helping my friend Marianne to be a much better experience -- partly because I knew the terrain, but mostly because our team was better organized. It also helped that she was in the hospital with all her bodily needs handled by professionals. You could not ask for a more grateful and gracious patient, but watching her suffer was awful. Coordinating with her brother and sister-in-law, her nephew, my husband George, and numerous friends, we were able to be with her most days, and many nights. In between we sorted through her possessions and dismantled her apartment, a very weird thing to do while she was still alive, but necessary given the time constraints of her out-of-town family. Our deathwatch lasted barely two weeks, and yet we were all spent when she finally died.

Asking for and accepting help is essential to a caregiver’s health and survival. Becoming comfortable with it takes practice and a change in thinking. You need to keep reminding yourself that you can’t do it alone, and that trying to do it alone is foolish and dangerous. Exhaustion leads to mistakes, to accidents, to errors in judgment, to illness and even death. If you become sick who will take over? Consider that learning to receive is part of the soul’s journey and certainly part of getting older. It can also be a profound gift that helps us bond with one another. It can deepen our relationship, love and affection.

If you have aging parents, or frail siblings, consider doing some advanced planning. Have a family conference, discuss what is be needed and who is willing to do what. Those who cannot be physically present may assist in others ways, e.g. money, administrative, research and communications.

Friends can be an important resource. Cultivate your friendships with kindness and generosity. Some  will be able to help and others will not, and you can never know which ahead of time. When you do need their help, make a list of tasks covering a wide range of commitment levels so that people may participate, as they are able. Tasks like preparing meals, grocery shopping, housekeeping, gardening and laundry come to mind. You can organize using the website Lotsa Helping Hands. Some people may find the technology off putting. So try a variety of strategies and use whatever works.

If you find you have time to breathe, to go for a walk, take a bath or get a decent night’s sleep, you’re on the right tack.

PBS Frontline - Facing Death

Facing Death is an impressive documentary report on end-of-life at the hospital. It is the visual version of Dr. Gawande’s New Yorker article, Letting Go. Only this time the message is directed at us, not the doctors. We are told that almost half of all deaths take place in hospitals and then we are shown just how awful that looks.

The film should be called “fighting death” rather than “facing death” because that is what the people do who are featured in this film. Patients do not want to die and their families do not want to decide for them. They fight death like heroic soldiers in a desperate war. It is wrenching to watch as fragile and failing bodies submit to yet another painful intervention on the wisp of a hope that this time they’ll beat the odds. For most, the end is death, for some it is unconsciousness on a ventilator for unknown years to come.

The medical system is absolved. Although there is always uncertainty, the doctors know the odds and do their best to convey that to their patients. But what can they do in the face of people who don't want to die and families that won't let go? And of course there is always one more thing to be done. And you never know, sometimes patients surprise you.

Throughout the film we are continually reminded of the financial costs of various procedures. Is this why medical insurance is so high? We are informed that the United States is the only country that allows this vast expenditure of resources at the end-of-life. Do you remember the palliative care conferences that were to be paid by medicare until Fox News started calling them "death panels?" They were removed from our new health bill.

The film's vision is true one. Our current approach to death is painful, scary and expensive. See Sharon R. Kaufman's book . . . And a Time to Die -- How American Hospitals Shape the End of Life. Yet I feel manipulated -- by all the images of suffering, the monetary statistics, the compassionate doctors talking to distraught families who resist their advice. The film is intended, I believe, to prepare us for things to come. Big changes in health care are inevitable. The first of the baby-boomer will turn 65 this year. They are the first flakes in the coming storm of aging medical consumers. Our hospital approach to end-of-life will buckle under those numbers. And what will our brave new world look like? I cannot tell you. But I believe that people in this country will need more than fear-provoking film images to change their response to death. They need a palatable alternative, and that the film does not provided.

Films About Life and Death

Below are some films I've recently found in the library and enjoyed.

A Rumor of Angels
There are a number of things to recommend this American film directed by Peter O'Fallon back in 2000. It’s unflinching stance on death very refreshing in this age of doubt and equivocation. The film follows the blossoming relationships between an 11 year old boy haunted by the car accident that killed his mom and an eccentric elder, Maddy, who lost her only son in the Vietnam war. Maddy, played by Vanessa Redgrave, helps the boy face his grief by sharing her own experience. A significant part of this is her journal of communications with her deceased son. “Death,” she is told in heavenly Morse code flashes on the night of his passing "is like stepping off a bus.” The take-no-guff interactions between Maddy and the grieving boy celebrate intergenerational communication, elder-wisdom, and a be-true-to-yourself spirit. It is an uplifting and reassuring film.

The Son of the Bride
This 2001 Argentine comedy/drama about a frazzled restaurateur and his aging parents, is not so much about death as about embracing life. After a sudden heart-attack, this 42 year old divorced man starts to re-think the direction his life has been taking. Fully caught up in keeping alive the restaurant his parent started, he has no time for his girlfriend, his daughter or anything else in his life. Gradually and at times painfully he finds his way back to living. What make this film special are the quirky characters that guide him. The acting and humor are charming in that South American way and the loving relationship between the man’s father and his mother who is suffering from Alzheimer’s is precious. A lot of lessons are learned, both humorous and serious, on the meaning of love, friendship, and marriage.